


cultverse

by brandyalexanders



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: 1970s (but it's very ambiguous), Alcohol, Cults, Drugs, Hedonism, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Work In Progress, also maybe implied chardee? a little? but don't read it for that, dennis is the definition of fake deep, obviously, though i'll probably never finish it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 04:38:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6551347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandyalexanders/pseuds/brandyalexanders
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>you can only reign over an empire so long before its foundations start to crack.<br/>or, the one where dennis is a hedonist cult leader and mac is a former priest and they're in love!<br/>((this is a super wip but i don't think i'll ever get around to finishing it.))</p>
            </blockquote>





	cultverse

**Author's Note:**

> oh man i have a whole thing planned out for this stupid au. i have so much stuff. but i left it alone for a few weeks and now i don't really have the drive to keep it going, so it probably won't get done. i did want to share it though! enjoy my half-baked thoughts. anyone else watch that show aquarius? i was inspired by that (it's really good btw...)
> 
> also if you followed me on tumblr (sickvinegar) what basically happened is my main account got terminated (i won't get into details rn) and my sunny blog was a sideblog so i can't log in or anything. i don't plan on remaking anytime soon but i do miss you guys!!!!

Dennis wants to teach the world that they are all dying, and they should make the most of life while they can. Mac knows this because Dennis says it in front of all his disciples every morning, preaching about life and its pleasures while they agree and agree and chant their approval. This is how they welcome in the day.

Sometimes Dennis will have them sit in silence for awhile, breathe in deep and take in the world around them. Sometimes he’ll dismiss them all right after he’s done speaking. Mostly he gets up and leaves on his own, willing them to follow, which they’ll all do sooner or later. Then he takes his ethereal self around the commune all day. He laughs and sings songs with the others and oozes charm and wisdom. Within five minutes of listening to Dennis Reynolds talk, you’d know he fully believes in what he’s preaching. Within fifteen minutes of listening to him, you might start believing yourself. Nobody in their shared space needs convincing anymore. 

Even when he’s right before them, something about Dennis seems absolutely unreal. It’s his seraphic presence that pulls crowds, Mac thinks. If he were a living, breathing human like the rest of them, he wouldn’t have his own following. But Dennis is not human. Dennis is strange and other. His attention is a gift, and his message is liberating. 

“If you live for pleasure,” he’s saying one morning, “nobody can hurt you.” The world is silent for Dennis. Even the birds are tuned in, even the wind. Mac looks at him attentively. He’s heard this particular speech so many times that he could recite it himself from heart. “If you make your own happiness, nobody can take it away from you.” Some people murmur quietly, but mostly everyone is transfixed. Dennis stands up from his spot at the head of the group and finishes out in an even tone. “Nobody in the world is more important than you are.”

There’s a moment after he leaves where there’s no sound at all. After everyone has had a second to breathe the space fills with chatter and discussion. Mac seeks out Charlie, who is glassy-eyed and sprawled on the dirt floor, and kicks gently at his ribs. 

“Come on, man. Let’s go and get some food in your system.” He helps Charlie up and lets him lean against his side, Dennis’ voice still loud and clear in his head. He couldn’t shake it if he tried. 

\--

Some of Dennis’ teachings have terms and conditions, and Mac has been around long enough to pick out the fine print. _Nobody in the world is more important than you are_ , except for Dennis, but it’s easy to miss the distinction when Dennis treats his followers like they move the earth. All this mutual devotion is more or less fake. Dennis wouldn’t let anyone know it, but almost everything is very one-sided. 

Dennis, for all his infinite glory, is almost parasitic. 

\--

The inner circle he keeps is made up of Dee, Mac, Charlie, and some tough, nameless guys who reinforce the dogma and whatever else Dennis tells them to. 

Dee, she’s his twin sister, but the two of them couldn’t be less identical. They have the same nose and not much else. Where Dennis is beguiling without making an effort, Dee is cloying and obnoxious. Mac tries not to spend too much time with her alone but he’s learned to tolerate her. She and Charlie get along well, though Mac isn’t quite sure why. Sometimes they’re just like Mac and Dennis, in their own way. 

Even if he doesn’t particularly like Dee, Mac thinks she may be the smartest of them all. She’s also the least invested in Dennis’ teachings. Mac has to wonder why she hasn’t tried to leave. He guesses it has something to do with Dennis’ influence. 

Charlie’s been around since the beginning. Mac’s known him forever too- their shared history is what lead him to Dennis in the first place. Charlie is still the same sweet kid he’s always been, he’s just more enthusiastic after finding Dennis. He and Dennis often talk emphatically together because Charlie is naive and has a rigid faith in the message. It’s Charlie who spreads the word when Dennis isn’t trying. The way he parrots Dennis tends to work in their favor. 

Mac on his own is Dennis’ favorite, has been ever since he joined the group. If they’re alone without Charlie and Dee, they’re getting high or fucking or talking, or any combination of those things. If all four of them are together, Dennis will wrap his arms around Mac’s waist and hold him close and they’ll stay that way while they hang out and drink, the rest of Dennis’ kingdom buzzing quietly as background noise. 

Of course Dennis knows everyone on the commune. All the regulars, at least. He makes a point of spending time with the new recruits, the disillusioned adults and curious teenagers who stop by to meet him. These sort of folks don’t show up every day but there’s a higher turnout lately. More of them keep coming back and then sticking around for good. Mac doesn’t mind; no matter how many new kids come to stay with them, Dennis never gets bored of him. Some days they don’t get to spend as much time together, but that’s alright. The message needs to be heard. Besides, Dennis always finds his way back to Mac in the end. 

There are a few dozen others who stay with them full time, milling around the private land that Dennis seems to own. Nobody really knows how Dennis pays for everything. Nobody really talks about it either, though. It’s easier to believe Dennis is some sort of awesome superpower who can make anything happen. 

Some of them sleep outside in cars and tents, or if they’ve been there awhile, in the two-story house that Dennis himself lives in. Mac spends most of his nights with Dennis. Other times he’ll fall asleep with Charlie, just the two of them nestled on a threadbare mattress while Dennis stays up late writing new sermons. Life is more simple than the press would have the public think. 

\-- 

Mac kneels next to Dennis’ feet with his hands tucked in his own lap, listening to some of the new kids pass a joint around. One of them seems hesitant when it reaches her. 

“I don’t think I should,” she says. She’s plastered against her friend’s side, wide-eyed and uncomfortable. Mac doesn’t think she’ll come back after this. “I hear those are really bad for you.”

Dennis laughs. Everyone turns to look at him, his pale skin glowing against the summer night sky. He’s staring down the nervous girl in his unassuming way. His lips are turned up in the start of a grin. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear,” he tells her. “Why don’t you give it a shot? You might like it.”

The girl nods and her friend pats her on the back. “There you go,” Dennis says gently, and the whole circle congratulates her after she has a puff. She gives Dennis a shy smile and he smiles back. “See? That wasn’t so bad.” 

When the joint gets to Dennis at the end of the circle, he pats Mac on the shoulder. “Sit up, baby,” he instructs. Mac does so obediently. Dennis takes a huge drag and leans down until he can kiss Mac, their open mouths touching as smoke swirls between them. Mac breathes in what Dennis offers him until it’s all dissipated. They seal it off with a chaste closed-mouth kiss. As soon as they settle back, Dennis’ fingers tangle in his hair and he melts into the touch. “None of this is gonna matter in twenty, thirty years,” Dennis says to no one in particular, pausing to draw more of the smoke into his mouth. He exhales in the shape of a perfect ring, which floats around them for a second before he waves it away lazily. “And twenty, thirty years after that, we’re all gonna be dead.” 

The message sounds bleak sometimes, put bluntly, but Mac knows it holds more of a promise than a threat. Dennis keeps playing with his hair. “No reason not to try new things, right?” 

“Right,” Mac echoes, and the others do too. The girl from before, she’s looking less meek than she has been all night, but she keeps her mouth shut. Being singled out by Dennis can be overwhelming. 

Mac doesn’t see the girl again after that, but then, he never looks very hard for her. 

***

Mac has always taken comfort in worship. When he was younger, all he had to do to keep the world from coming down around him was kneel and clutch his rosary tight in his palms, whispering a prayer on each bead until he started feeling right again. He’d felt more at home in his church than he ever had anywhere else. The other kids fidgeted through their Sunday mornings, but Mac paid rapt attention, sat up straight and sang along with the hymns enthusiastically. 

He doesn’t make a habit of thinking about his life before Dennis, but when Charlie had first introduced them, he had been studying to be a priest. 

\--

Charlie took him to see Dennis talk one night. Mac never wanted to go, but Charlie was so insistent and he all but dragged Mac to the commune, where just a few others were gathering at the time. 

Whatever Dennis talked about that night, it scared Mac. He didn’t read from a book. He just spoke confidently about his message. His audience was louder than any congregation Mac had ever been a part of, but Dennis didn’t seem to mind. He just smiled and went on in his beautiful, terrifying voice. Mac held eye contact with Dennis whenever he happened to look his way. He tried not to listen to the sermon (how blasphemous to call it that, he would have thought at the time). 

If Charlie hadn’t been his ride there, Mac would have snuck out immediately after it was over, but Dennis took one look at him at the end and came sauntering towards him. He moved so carefully, picking his way past the others with his gaze fixed on Mac the whole time. 

Dennis was stunning when he appeared before Mac. His curls were rolled neatly over his forehead, his sharp face softened by the dim light around them. “You must be Charlie’s friend,” he said. His blue eyes were striking even from a distance, but Mac felt like he could have drowned in them up close. “Mac, right?” He got a silent nod in response. “I’m glad I finally got to meet you. Charlie talks about you all the time.” 

Mac snorted a little. “Lately he can’t go ten seconds without talking about _you_.” 

Dennis licked his lips and Mac watched, his breath catching in his throat. “Kid’s good about spreading the word,” he said finally. “Would you like to come back sometime, Mac?” 

“I don’t know,” Mac told him quietly, looking down at the ground underneath them. 

“Well, I hope I get to see you again.” 

\--

“Charlie tells me you’re going to be a priest,” Dennis said during Mac’s tenth visit. They were sitting alone on one of the ugly yellow couches in his living room. That was before it became a common space, when Mac could walk around without fear of stepping on someone’s limbs while they slept on the floor. 

“I’m gonna be ordained soon.” 

Dennis offered him the bottle he was drinking from, some sort of expensive liquor that Mac had never heard of. “Cheers to that.”

“No thank you.” 

“What, you don’t drink?” 

“I can’t tonight,” Mac said, shifting backwards so there was more space between the two of them. Dennis didn’t seem to notice. 

“Mac,” he said, taking on his subtly authoritative tone. “Look at me.” Mac ripped his eyes away from the bottle. “There’s not a thing in this life you can’t do.” 

Mac pursed his lips. “You don’t get it.” 

“Oh, come on.” Dennis rarely ever let himself sound annoyed, but Mac could hear it in his voice, just a little edge. He still sounded perfect; Mac still hung off of every word. “What’s the worst that could happen?” 

“I could go to Hell,” he said in a small voice. He never once looked away from Dennis. The liquor had been abandoned on the ground, uncapped. 

“You know there’s nothing in the Bible against drinking.” 

“It’s not that…” Mac tucked his lip between his teeth. His fingers curled nervously. “It’s if I start drinking with you, I might do something that would get me sent there.” He hadn’t meant to tell him that, but Dennis’ predatory stare could make anyone confess to sins they’d never even dreamt of. 

Dennis’ interest was piqued, and he moved closer to Mac, cocking his head to the side like a dog. Mac was effectively cornered. “Mac, baby, tell me; how do you get to Heaven?”

Mac swallowed thickly. “You live as well as you can to make up for your sins, and if you were good enough, you go there when you die,” he mumbled, his eyes half-lidded. Dennis got on his knees so that he was taller than Mac. He reached out and rested his hand on Mac’s thigh. 

“So you’re not gonna do anything fun your whole life, on the off chance you might get to live it up when you’re dead?” Dennis was so close that Mac could hear him breathing. 

“No,” Mac whispered. He could barely get anything out with Dennis touching him. “That’s not what it’s like.” 

“Sounds like it to me. Let me tell you what I think.” Dennis used his free hand to tilt up Mac’s chin, and his eyes were so brilliant. “I don’t know if there’s a Heaven or a Hell. None of us do. We don’t even know if there’s a God.” The casual way he’d said it made Mac gasp. “All we know for sure, Mac, is that we’re all gonna die someday. We’ve just got sixty good years to fuck around before we do.” 

Mac didn’t try to wrench his head away from Dennis’ grip, but he turned his eyes down, mulling over the speech in his head. Nobody had ever renounced God openly in front of him. It was so unlike anything he’d ever heard, so shocking, but he’d listen to anything Dennis had to say if he just kept talking low and calm. He was frustrated that Dennis’ words made sense to him at all. Still, he felt obligated to put up a fight. “Don’t you want to be happy in the afterlife?” 

“I don’t give a shit about my _afterlife_ ,” Dennis scoffed. “I want to be happy _now_.” He leaned in close until the tip of his nose brushed against Mac’s. “I could make you so happy, Mac,” he murmured.

“Dennis,” Mac breathed. Dennis was so bright and beautiful that he was reminiscent of the golden calf, the false, shimmering idol that the Israelites put their faith in. Mac lifted his palm and set it on Dennis’ chest. He felt nothing at all like gold; he was warm and practically thrumming with energy under his shirt and skin, lit up wherever Mac touched him. Mac looked into his eyes and felt sure that Dennis would never hurt him or lead him astray. 

Dennis was not a false idol. 

He took Mac’s other hand, wrapped their fingers together. “I could be so good to you.” 

“Please,” Mac blurted out. He squeezed Dennis’ palm. “Don’t make me regret this.” He stared up at Dennis through his eyelashes, hesitating just a moment before matching their lips up. 

Kissing Dennis was better than any ideal he’d been sold before, better than the weak promise of Heaven and completely worth the threat of Hell. He felt more sacred sitting with Dennis on that fluorescent yellow couch than he ever had counting off prayers on his rosary. They arranged themselves comfortably, Mac pressed into the pillows and Dennis resting close against him. Dennis’ lips felt like crushed velvet and warm communion wine. Just like his sermon, it was heady and intriguing and terrifying all at once. Mac never wanted to feel anything else.

“Someday I’ll teach you,” Dennis said when he pulled away, sounding so amused and holy, “that you don't have to regret anything at all.”

*** 

There’s a broken-down pickup truck just a short walk from the house, and Charlie brings Mac and Dee and Dennis out to see it after he finds it. They go and sit in the truck bed. Dennis curls himself around Mac, buries his face in Mac’s black hair. 

“This is nice, Charlie,” Dee says, and Mac notices she’s got a genuine smile on her face. “I feel like I never leave the commune anymore.” 

Dennis stiffens. His arms constrict tighter against Mac. “What would you want to leave for?” 

“Shit, Dennis, I don’t know. Maybe I just want a change of scenery every now and then.” 

It’s quiet for a minute while the twins glare at each other. Mac and Charlie both fidget. Dennis and Dee have a tendency to make anyone feel like outsiders when they actually act like siblings.

“Nobody wants to leave, Dennis,” Charlie says. He’s the only one who’s brave enough to talk to Dennis like that if he’s wound up. “She was just saying, sometimes it’s nice to get out of the house.”

Dee breaks eye contact with Dennis and smiles at Charlie, slinging an arm over his shoulder. “Yeah, see,” she mutters, but her agreement doesn’t sound so sincere. 

Mac can feel Dennis relaxing a little, so either he doesn’t notice or he doesn’t care. “None of you would be happy anywhere else.” 

Mac thinks about it. He thinks about all the times he’d felt fulfilled after praying to God in church, but now that he’s found Dennis he knows it was more about being dedicated to a higher power than it was about his connection with the Lord. He silently agrees with Dennis. The thought of leaving hadn’t crossed his mind at all before Dee had caused a scene. “We’re not going anywhere,” he says, giving the deity sitting besides him a reassuring pat on the knee. Dennis acknowledges him with a smile. “I love it here.” 

“I do too,” Charlie chimes. 

Dee says nothing at all. She pulls her knees up to her chest and ignores Dennis’ sidelong glances. 

\--

A lot of the new kids are just that, runaway teenagers looking for a new philosophy. Dennis isn’t picky about who hears the message. As long as they’re willing to listen to him, he’s willing to let them in. They mostly stick to themselves, which Mac is grateful for- he never signed on to babysit rowdy adolescents. 

He and Charlie are watching a few of them hang out. “You ever wonder where their parents are?” Mac asks, turning up some dirt with his heel. He makes quick eye contact with a boy who can’t be older than sixteen. Charlie seems more interested in a pebble on the ground than the question. 

“Nah. Doesn’t bother Dennis, doesn’t bother me.”

“Yeah, but they’ve gotta have families somewhere.” 

Charlie looks up from his pebble. “Do you ever miss your mom?” 

“I don’t really think about her,” Mac answers with a shrug. He bites his lip before he goes on. “You and Dennis, you’re kinda like my family now.” 

“I know what you mean.” Charlie kicks the rock and they both watch it land a few feet away. “Maybe these kids feel the same way.” 

Mac nods. He can see the sense in that. Dennis offers up the same sort of warmth that a parent does, only he does it better. Dennis doesn’t care about rules or curfews or anything like that. Dennis only cares about loyalty, and it’s easy to let him have what he wants. 

\--

Dennis is on his feet one morning, pacing around the crowd that’s shown up to listen to him. It’s mostly the others who live with them. There are a few new faces, too, and they sit skittishly on the edges of the group. Mac’s right next to Dee, and he’s not sure where Charlie is. 

“You should always put yourself first.” Dennis punctuates his sentence with a hand gesture. This sounds like a new speech, something he’s just unveiling to the group. What he really means is _you should always put yourself first_ , but not before Dennis. Mac tacks on the second part himself. “At the end of the day, the only person who really matters is yourself. You can’t let anyone else’s needs take precedence above yours.

“Out in nature, it’s kill or be killed, and I think it’s about time we adopt the idea. Let’s start living for ourselves. Let’s only worry about ourselves.” Mac sees unease on some faces, which isn’t all that unusual. Some of the newcomers are hesitant to the word at first.

“What about our friends and family?” Mac recognizes the boy he saw a few days earlier, the one who barely looked old enough to drive, and his heart sinks. Usually when Dennis speaks the only response is quiet accordance. And even if the fresh faces don’t agree with Dennis, they never speak out against him. There has never been a voice loud enough to challenge Dennis’, not even close. 

Dennis has his back to the boy, but Mac can see his face from where he’s sitting. His shoulders are tense and he’s bristling like an agitated animal. The divinity, he whips around, seeking out whoever dared to interrupt him with such a stupid question. His hands are balled into fists. Dennis will not be killed. Dennis will not let anyone live if they’re not living for his message. 

“ _What about your friends and family?_ ” He repeats, sarcastic and sharp. Mac feels like he’s been frozen. Dee’s long fingers wrap around his arm, and the touch is grounding, if unwarranted. They’re both holding their breath. “What _about_ them?”

“Don’t they matter?”

“Not if they’re standing between you and your happiness. Not if you don’t want them to.”

“That’s kind of messed up.”

Dennis looks over his shoulder, turning his head to take in his entire congregation. Everyone is watching him cautiously. His eyes trail over the crowd. For the first time that Mac has seen in awhile, Dennis seems more or less flustered, his eternal spring of wisdom cut off from the source. 

“Why don’t we stop there for the day,” he says. He points at the young man. “You, I’d like to have a word.” He makes subdued eye contact with a few of his lackeys, who are peppered around the audience. “You boys can stick around too. Everyone else can go.” Hardly anybody moves to stand up. “Go!” 

Mac watches them leave, silent and eager to escape the situation. Dee tugs on his arm. “Dennis said-” she starts, but Mac pulls himself away from her grasp. 

“Hold on,” he says. Dee rolls her eyes. She doesn’t try and get Mac to leave, though, just stands up and makes her way towards the group. 

Hands in his pockets, Dennis is fixated on the heretic sitting in front of him. He’s still visibly unsettled. Mac wants to take the stress away from his shoulders. His huge, bulked out bodyguards, they stand around him, looking intimidating and ready to back Dennis up on anything. 

“I don’t like being undermined like that,” he says. “If you have a problem with what I have to say, you can come to me directly. But I can’t have you stirring up the crowd.” 

Mac isn’t sure how he should feel about this, can’t decide what to do. Dennis ends up making the decision for him. He glances at Mac out of the corner of his eye. “Go, baby. I’ll come find you in a little while.” 

He gets to his feet hastily, scurrying out of the clearing. He can’t hear whatever else Dennis says to the kid, but his gentle voice giving out orders carries around him while he walks away. 

\--

Later on, Dennis and Mac are relaxing on their couch with Dee close by. A few other followers are hanging out as well and they’re all just talking, making normal conversation. It’s just like any other day. Mac could almost forget about the events of the day, except for the nervous way Dennis shakes against him. The movement is subtle, but Mac spends so much time with Dennis that he can tell when something isn’t quite right. He holds Dennis’ hand and tries to keep him engaged. 

The front door opens while Dee is telling a story, and the sight of whoever just came in makes her pause. “Oh my god,” she whispers under her breath. Mac cranes his neck to see what she’s looking at. 

The kid from earlier is standing before them, looking ruined. His eye is swollen and bruised, and there are cuts splitting his lip open in several places. Mud is matting his hair down against his scalp. 

“You are so fucked up,” he says. He’s staring directly at Dennis. 

Dennis just smiles and snakes his arm tightly around Mac. Mac could probably shake him if he wanted to get up and see if the boy was alright. He doesn’t want to. He wonders what it says about him, that he’d rather just watch everything play out. Dennis is still quivering, but his voice comes out collected when he opens his mouth. 

“You think so?” Dennis quirks his eyebrow up. He shifts like he’s going to get up and the kid flinches. Mac isn’t sure what Dennis is planning, or even what he’s capable of. “Relax. I’m a reasonable guy, I won’t hurt you again unless you give me a reason to.” 

Dee jumps up from her seat, her face knitted with concern. “Again? What did you do to him, Dennis?” She hovers near the kid. “He’s bleeding.”

“I just showed him the consequences of talking back to me,” Dennis says, looking bored. Mac just presses closer to him. No sin goes unnoticed by God. 

“I’m calling the cops.”

Dennis narrows his eyes for a split second. Mac doesn’t know what to do about it. Dennis is supposed to be untouchable, and if his confidence is shaken, something is certainly wrong. 

“By all means,” he says finally. “Run on home to your _friends and family_ and tell them too. But if I ever see you here again, you’re not leaving without a fucking concussion.” 

“Jesus, he’s just a kid,” Dee says. 

Dennis has never liked hearing the names of other gods in his own domain. “He was mature enough to threaten me,” he points out, teeth gritted. Mac nods his head. 

Dee grabs the kid’s dirty jacket and pulls him back towards the door. “Come on, I’ll help you get back to town.” 

“Just let him go, Dee,” Mac says, twisting his shirt between his fingers anxiously. He can tell Dennis is about to burst. The floodgates keeping everything contained, they’ve been tested too many times today to stay intact. “He’ll be fine.” Dennis seems to perk up from the defense. His open palm rests between Mac’s shoulder blades as if he’s trying to steady himself. 

“You know what, Mac? You’re just as bad as my goddamn brother. You two deserve each other.” Dee is already twisting the doorknob. She’s not looking at Mac and Dennis anymore. 

This doesn’t sit well with Dennis. “Dee, if you walk out that door right now, you’re not welcome back either.” 

It’s quiet for a second while Dee considers this and Dennis’ eyes bore into the back of her head. Mac wonders if she’ll actually leave. He thinks about her sitting in the bed of that old truck, refusing to meet Dennis’ glare. 

The door slams shut before either of them can say anything.

Mac can feel Dennis take a shuddering breath, like he’s trying to pull himself back together. He touches Dennis’ forehead with his lips. He feels like a space heater. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, wrapping his fragile prophet up in a warm hug. “She’s wrong about you.” 

“Who the fuck needs her anyways?” Resting his head on Mac’s chest, he laughs bitterly. The sound is weary and thin, but it’s almost comforting to hear Dennis laughing and Mac is grateful for it. 

“Right? We’re gonna be just fine without her,” he says into Dennis’ soft curls. 

“Just fine,” Dennis repeats. He lets Mac sort through his hair with warm, careful fingers. 

\-- 

Dennis sits on the edge of their bed with his back curved and his palms covering his face. Mac kneels down on the floor in front of him like he used to before bed as a kid. _I pray the Lord my soul to keep_... “Are you doing alright?” 

One of Dennis’ blue eyes peers at Mac from between his fingers. “Do you think I made a mistake?” He’s quiet and Mac isn’t certain he heard him correctly. Dennis doesn’t admit his shortcomings, and he certainly doesn’t second-guess himself.

Dee’s exit speech must have gotten to him. She had never been on the same page as Mac and Dennis and Charlie; she was the least attached and the least understanding. In her eyes Dennis was some kind of monster for messing with the kid. Mac knows he was just doing what he had to for the message, for the group. He shakes his head, reaching out to touch Dennis’ heart where it rests under his ribcage. “I don’t think you’ve ever made a mistake,” he says, looking up at the other man sincerely. Dennis lifts his head and meets his gaze, one of his hands resting over Mac’s own. 

“You’re sweet,” Dennis says. His hands are soft and barely worn. “But you might have too much faith in me.” 

Pulling Dennis’ hand away from his chest, Mac brings it to his lips and kisses the pads of his fingers gingerly. He runs his mouth along the smooth area where his thumb connects to the rest of his hand, open-mouthed, and Dennis gasps above him. The bed dips and creaks once and then Dennis is on the floor besides him, his wrist still hanging loosely in Mac’s grip. 

Everything is eclipsed by the supernova of Dennis. 

Dennis wraps his arms around Mac and kisses his cheek. Mac takes the opportunity to speak. “You’ve never been wrong about anything before,” he whispers. When Dennis tilts his head up, Mac kisses his throat and then his lips as reassurance, his hands on the white expanse of stomach that’s showing where his shirt has ridden up over his body. Dennis kisses back and nothing else matters, not the day prior, not Dee leaving, not anything. 

If Mac has nothing else, at least he has Dennis, supreme and celestial. He bites Dennis’ lip and touches his nose to his cheek. Dennis brushes some of Mac’s hair away from his forehead where it’s fallen out of place. He’s looking much better than before, more like his usual self, and Mac really feels like they’re going to be alright. 

“I want to stop thinking so much,” Dennis confesses, his eyes shut.

Mac twists his hand in the fabric of Dennis’ shirt, tugging gently. “Let’s just lay down for now, okay? You’ll feel better with a good night’s sleep.”

Dennis agrees by getting up. He shucks his jeans and gets in bed with just his boxers and his old shirt, and Mac follows suit after flicking the light switch off and relocating to his side of the bed they share. The scant light from the spaces in the blinds refracts over Dennis’ body, casting uniform lines over his skin, and Mac feels unworthy for the spectacle. He feels like he should look away before he goes blind. Instead he touches Dennis’ thin arm and pulls him close, breathing in his unearthly scent.


End file.
